The Crow that Reaps
Page 3
arrow. I cursed myself, the world, god, and whatever I needed to! I was cold, wet, hungry, and just felt overall broken inside.
I sat down and took my water bottle and unscrewed the cap. Placing bottle out from under the tree I let the rain attempt to fill it up. Thank Mother Nature for small favors again. I laid my head against the tree and tried to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. The poison Ivy on my arm was unbearable. I scratched at it openly. Somewhere in the distance a crow was cackling.
I couldn’t bear to think of that opportunity. Sweet precious dark meat. The lighting chased that annoying bird off. It can be funny how one day a missed opportunity was something so simple. The price of a missed opportunity is usually a small set back. A missed opportunity out here means death. No set back. Second chances may never occur. When the rain let up I casted my pole out again. Maybe a second chance at fishing would fix my mood. The sun finally came out
and began drying my clothes. Some time passed and I never had a single bite. My grandfather always said live bait was the best.
I ventured on, still damp from the rain and still hungry. Nothing was changing for me anymore. What was the difference between dying in bed or out in the woods? One is much quicker. I did think about the pistol and how easy it would be to stop my suffering. Thoughts and memories from the past filled my mind and I couldn’t even think straight anymore.
The creek lured me out into an open field. I could see out miles past me to nothing but prairie. Never have I been out this way and it was simply amazing. It was lonely and peaceful. The wind blew and the air still smelled of fresh wind. The brush was bright green and wild flowers grew in a plague all across the valley. This must have been the best place I could ever find to die.
Suddenly, I heard a scream erupt across the valley. I looked up into the sky and saw a hawk flying through the sky. It was circling as if it was hunting. I watched in great admiration. It soared with complete confidence as it eyed for its prey. If the hawk was capable of hunting a rabbit then that gave hope that I could as well. The hawk looked so free soaring through the sky. I wanted to be like that hawk. I wanted the freedom of stress, to walk the way it flew, to eat upon the prey I find and to be held by no boundaries. Was it too much to ask for?
A cackling and squawking echoed through the valley. I grew concerned when I saw a large flock of crows flying towards the hawk. The crows were led by a large fat one. I could have sworn that it was the same bird I attempted to shoot at it before. The hawks surrounded the hawk and chased him in every direction he flew. They dive bombed at him so missing, others just clipping him. Feathers of brown and black escaped the holders as the birds scraped against each other. Finally, the largest one pecked at the hawk’s wing, damaging it. The hawk screamed as if for help because it couldn’t fly any better and started to circle lower to the ground. Now the crows went to work on it dive bombing the bird till it fell to its death in the field. I never heard birds squawk so happy.
Angry I nocked an arrow. The razors on the broad head gleamed in the light happy. I dropped my bag and ran into the direction of the crows. The flock was marvelous in size, the biggest I have ever seen. Could have been close to one hundred birds. When I got close to the flock they began to circle me. They did not fear me, nor did I them. I remembered the nightmare I had. I knew what this was all about. I stood my ground waiting for the birds to dive bomb me. I wanted it, needed it. It was at that moment where I realized what life was about. It was supposed to be hard and stressful. The pain is needed to find peace. Conquer it and you will be rewarded. Stay strong till your last breath and if you happen to survive you shall be stronger, wiser. You will conquer anything and after a long run with life you will be rewarded and you can die with a smile on your face.
I stood toe to toe with death this time. I waited for my target. The fat crow. I wanted him more than the others. He was the tip of the reaper. The one touch that could end me, pecked to death under a storm of crows. I listened patiently for the cackling. I heard it. I turned into the direction and looked directly into the sun. I wished for my sunglasses but they were back in my bag. In squinted eyes I could see a large black mass heading in my direction. It was leading a group of crows to hit me. I was nearly blinded me but I realized this was my second shot. Like my first deer kill in the tree this was my second attempt at a kill. Kill or be killed. I drew my bow back and focused on the large black mass coming towards me, cackling its way along. I knew it was the same bird. I didn’t think of the past in that moment, I didn’t think of my life back in the real world. In those few seconds from the time I pulled back to shoot, I was free.
When I released the arrow the world became silent. The arrow cut through the air coming face to face with the large bird. The crow tried to dodge but was too slow and the arrow went clean through the massive wing. The bird screamed as it went falling face first into the prairie grass. The flock scattered when the massive bird went down but I paid no notice. I looked for the bird on the ground.
I found it flopping around squawking. “Not cackling now are you?” I said as I approached the massive crow. I remembered when my grandpa showed me how to finish off a wounded bird. I grabbed the bird by its head even though it made good attempts to peck at me. I twisted my wrist, twisting the bird’s body and the heavy body flew off into the grass and I was left holding the severed crow’s head. Birds have little connecting them between they’re head and body which made twisting its head off easy.
A trickle of blood rolled down my wrist from the head. I stared at that bird in its great black eyes and threw the head as far as I could. I picked up the decapitated corpse and threw it over my shoulder. Time to search for my arrow. After I found my arrow I took it back to where my bag was and began building a great big fire. This time I made sure I had a lot of brush and I made the fire big to keep the sticks burning. When I had a good fire going, I cleaned up the crow for roasting. I cut and removed the wings and tore out all of the feathers. I tore the guts out from the body and found a stick to pry into the breast meat. I let the bird hang over the fire, letting the flames lick at the meat sizzling it. My mouth watered at the juice falling off of it. I was so eager to eat it I stuck the meat into my mouth half cooked.
The dark texture was tough but delicious and I began to scarf as much meat as I could get down. I had never felt that good in years! After the first meal was consumed I felt great. All the stress, depression, and weakness left my body. Nightfall was coming again and this time the stars and moon greeted me. I laid out in my sleeping bag and felt sleepiness take me on. I pondered on the idea of going back and face my demons head. After thinking about it I realized this was the only way I could ever be happy. Nothing in the real world ever challenged me like this. Nothing gave me the satisfaction that this world can give me.
For it was never a love sick lullaby that drove me to go this way, it was never the hardships of work, or the lack of appreciation of my so called family. It was taught to me at an early age. That true happiness was in my nature and that the lessons I learned opened my mind up beyond what most people miss out on. I will remain in this world, fishing, hunting and trapping. I already couldn’t wait to go looking for beaver signs and set that trap for a nice large pelt. The excitement filled me with the love and life I always wanted when I was a child. One day death will guide its gentle hand in my direction and when that time comes I will take death with open arms. Then the crows can happily pick away at my flesh and my bones can sink down into this mud, but my spirit may always haunt this creek forevermore. But that day is not today. As I turn over to fall asleep I think about my grandpa and as sleep takes me away two single words slip from my lips. “Thank you.”
-share-buttons">share